


Make Our Lives On the Go

by just_another_classic



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 14:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_classic/pseuds/just_another_classic
Summary: Sharon Carter is on the run, and Steve Rogers does not leave a man (or woman) behind.





	Make Our Lives On the Go

**Author's Note:**

> You know, let's pretend Endgame didn't happen and Steve went after Sharon to invite him into his Secret Avengers group.

* * *

"I’m not trying to make you a wife here  
I’m not trying to tie you down  
I’m just saying there might be a life here –  
A new one as soon as we run  
Just as soon as we run  
Run away"  
  
-"Run Away With Me"  
The Unauthorized Autobiography of Samantha Brown

* * *

When Sharon first joined SHIELD, her Aunt Peggy had given her a list of locations should she ever need to lay low.

_“No one else knows about these. Not Nick, not the Starks, not even Daniel,”_ Peggy had warned as Sharon tried her best to memorize the locations of the various safe houses that belonged, in some way or the other, to her aunt. _“Espionage is dangerous work, and you never know what enemies you will make. I want you to know you always have a place to run, my dear.”_

Sharon had hoped her aunt had been exaggerating. But she dutifully took note of the various locations, and as the years passed and she began to realize no, Peggy hadn’t been exaggerating, Sharon made sure to keep them fresh in mind. 

Sharon was now holed up in a run down apartment on the outskirts of Cologne. Stashed away under some floorboards, she found a couple thousand in Euros, a few fake passports, and a loaded Glock. Furnished in the apartment was a radio and television, the latter she had used to gain insight into just what mess Steve Rogers had gotten himself and his allies, herself included, into. 

Almost two weeks had passed since Sharon had made the decision to betray her country and assist Captain America in whatever treasonous actions the government had decided to ascribe to him. There had been a large battle at an airport, one that Sharon now wished she had joined. The rebelling Avengers that had been captured were rumored to have been part of a jailbreak. At least then she would freer, and not still hiding in Germany eating cans of soup and wondering just what she could do with her life.

Sometime prior to her aunt fully succumbing to dementia, Peggy had procured numerous passports with Sharon’s photo. When Sharon had found them nestled with the money and gun, she had cried at one of Peggy’s last gifts. Now she was left to plot and plan. 

Waiting for tensions to blow over would be the smartest course of action. Even with false passports and fake IDs, Sharon wasn’t sure if her face was posted for any security agency to see. She was working on concocting a backstory, and charting our various locations she could potentially travel. She could take a train or even hitchhike to get into a neighboring country, and fly out of Europe from there. Asia, she knew, was a good place to disappear. Neither China nor India would do, but she could perhaps lay low in Indonesia or Laos.

Maybe once she was settled she could properly contact her parents to let them know she was okay and to apologize for everything she was surely putting them through. Strained as their relationship was — neither of them had approved of her joining SHIELD — they didn’t deserve all of the interviews and interrogations they surely had been subject to thanks to her actions. 

The worst part of all, if given the chance to do it all over again, Sharon would make the same choices.

Long ago, Aunt Peggy had instilled in her the belief that duty extended beyond one’s workplace. Duty encompassed one’s country, one’s beliefs, and one’s self. Sharon had seen recordings of the Nuremberg trials. Following orders was never an excuse. And what Sharon had done, helping Steve and his friends by subverting the Accords? Sharon had felt that was her duty. Not that the United States Government or her parents would understand that.

Sharon sighed deeply and ran her hands through her hair as she considered all of this. Loathe as she was to do it, she also realized that she should probably cut her hair. As much as she loved her long hair, a haircut would be an easy way to mask her identity. Good intelligence agencies would expect that, of course, but if she were lucky, Sharon might be able to get away with the ruse.

Just as she was about to search for scissors — surely Aunt Peggy had the forethought to stock the place with scissors, Sharon really didn’t want to go out to find any — she heard a knock on the door. She hesitated, sure that she been imagining noises in her anxious state, but the knock came again. Knowing there was no reason for anyone to knock, Sharon shuffled away, reaching for the gun on the coffee table. She kept it loaded and ready at all times. 

She continued to walk back, considering her exit strategy. She had stuffed some of the money and two of the passports into a leather bag that she carried with her into every room of the place. She could easily grab that, and climb out one the back windows. It was a two floor drop, but if she landed right — assuming no one was waiting around for her. 

The knock came again, this time more insistent. When whomever was on the other side twisted the knob — it was locked, but still — Sharon took that as her cue to run. She grabbed the strap of her bag, and swung it over her shoulders. She made it the bedroom and locked the door behind her. She crept by the window, parting the curtains and blinds in an attempt to see if anyone was looking out for her. She couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. 

Slowly, she opened the window. She peeked again. If a sniper wanted to take her out, they could, but she was sure at this point the CIA would want to bring her in living if only to determine if she had any intel on Steve.  _ Which I don’t.  _ Just as he had disappeared from everyone else’s radar, he had disappeared from hers as well. Sharon pretended that it didn’t hurt. 

Sharon couldn’t hear anyone attempting to break into her place, but she knew she couldn’t risk it. Her gut told her someone was trying to get in, and she knew that she couldn’t be in there when they succeeded. She climbed through the window, took a deep breath, and she dropped. She landed, her ankle rolling, and Sharon swore when she hit the ground. Despite the throbbing her ankle, she pushed herself up and forced herself to move. 

She traversed through the alley before making her way down a sidewalk. She hid her gun under her jacket, hoping not to draw too much attention. She was running on adrenaline now, which allowed her to push through the ache in her ankle. She glanced over her shoulder to survey her surroundings, hoping that she wasn’t being followed. She cut through a few side streets, and even doubled back on a few before she found her way to a park. 

She sat on a bench, and took a moment to breathe. She needed a plan, and she needed one now. She could catch a bus and make her way down to the train station. From there she could get on the next train out of the country. It didn’t matter where, though the Netherlands and Belgium were the two closest countries, but something told her that avoiding Brussels would be her best bet. She could figure out the rest from there.

She stood up to leave, and winced as she put weight on her left foot. God, she hoped it wasn’t broken. Before she could consider what to do next, however, she felt a large hand wrap around her arm. 

“Don’t scream.”

She hadn’t planned on it. What she had planned on was twisting and giving her assailant a solid right hook, but the familiarity of his voice stopped her. 

“Steve?”

Sharon took a moment to study the man beside her. He had at least a week’s worth of scruff on his face, and his hair was hidden under a knitted cap, but she would recognize those baby blues anywhere. He gave her a cautious smile.

“What do you say we head back to your place, and I can fill you in on everything, okay?” And then, because he was Steve Rogers, he blushed terribly once he recognized how he sounded. “I mean, it’s better to talk inside than out here when anyone can hear us.”

“I agree,” she replied. 

She had so many questions —  _ What are you doing here? How did you find me? Why did you find me? _ — but she also knew he was correct that it was safer for them to talk indoors. She allowed him to wrap his arm around her waist and hold her steady as they moved. To any outsider, they would look like a normal couple on an afternoon stroll. 

“How long have you been in town?” Sharon asked, because that sounded exceedingly safe to ask. That was something normal people talked about. 

“Not long at all,” Steve replied, his answer deliberately vague. He craned his head to look around, watching as two children played happily in the park. “It’s different than the last time I was here.”

The last time he was here had to have been during the second World War. Though Sharon considered herself a bit of a history buff, especially when it came to WWII, she couldn’t quite remember if he made it to the Battle of Cologne or not. Even if he hadn’t, Sharon wouldn’t have been surprised if he pulled a few covert ops here. Not everything he and the Commandos had done resulted in their guns a-blazin’. 

The walk back to her safe house was faster than her leaving it. This time, they took a mostly straight route. They both still watched over their shoulders, even when Steve whispered, “Don’t worry, I have back up.” She didn’t know what exactly that meant, but she assumed at minimum Sam had to be somewhere nearby.  _ Don’t mess with Captain America and the Falcon.  _

The last time she had seen Sam, he had been sitting in the car with Bucky, smiling smugly in reaction to her and Steve’s kiss. If he saw them now, she wondered what he would be thinking. She barely knew how she felt about this. An hour ago, she had been willing to completely write off her and Steve’s kiss as a fleeting thing, another ‘what might have been’ if their circumstances had been different. But now he was here, and his arm was a solid weight around her waist. 

When they returned to her place, they both surveyed each of the rooms, their guns drawn. Once they were satisfied that no one else had snuck in or followed them, Sharon collapsed onto the threadbare sofa. She placed her gun on the coffee table and unwound her bag from over her shoulder before easing her boot off her left foot. Her shoulder was starting to swell, and Steve looked on in concern. 

“I think there’s some tape and painkillers in the first aid kit. It’s in the cabinet next to the fridge.” 

Steve dutifully went to fetch the supplies. She watched as her moved around the kitchen. He had done a better job of blending in this time around. He wore a large jacket over and ill-fitting t-shirt that didn’t highlight his muscles. The near-beard also helped. Not for the first time, Sharon found herself envying men’s abilities to easily change their face.

Steve returned quickly enough, and offered to wrap her leg for her as she popped three Tylenol. “I can’t believe you jumped out the window.”

“Someone was trying to get into my place.”

“I was testing to see if you were still here,” he argued. He looked up at her earnestly. “I didn’t expect you to run like you did.”

“Really?” She cast him a dubious look. Surely he knew her better than that. 

“Okay, so running was an option. I just didn’t  _ want  _ it to be that, especially since it resulted in this.” He finished patching up her leg. Once he was satisfied with the job, he got up and walked to the freezer. “No ice?”

“I didn’t feel like getting trays.” They had been exceedingly low on her priority list the few times she had gone to the market for supplies. 

“We should find you ice or something to help with the swelling.”

“Well, you won’t find it here.”

Steve frowned, clearly displeased with her answer. With his a sigh, he moved to join her on the sofa. He apparently had silently decided that her leg should be elevated, and that his lap was the best option for that. “Is this okay?”

He was doing that blushing thing again. Sharon found it endearing, and she nodded.

“How did you find this place, anyway?”

“Peggy,” Sharon answered. From there she gave the short version of how she had come to learn of her aunt’s safe houses. He listened intently, his eyes widening when she showed him the money and passports she had stuffed into her bag. “She’s saving my ass, even now.”  
  
The familiar ache she felt whenever she thought about her late aunt had returned. Sharon missed her tremendously. In many ways, Sharon thought she had already grieved for her aunt when dementia had taken her and Peggy would mistake Sharon for her nurse. But there was a certain permanence to death, and any hope of Peggy recovering, of remembering her and smiling in recognition was gone. 

“She was proud of you,” Steve said softly. Sharon shied away from the sympathy in his eyes. She knew he missed her too, but there was a difference in missing a former lover and missing a close relative. “And I know she’d be happy that you were able to use this place.”

“What, did you two talk about me?” 

Steve shook his head. “No. Knowing everything I do now, I wish we had. But, even if you never came up, I knew her well enough to know there wasn’t a world in which she wouldn’t be proud and impressed with you. I’m not even related to you, and I’m impressed.”

“Thanks.” Sharon refrained from saying that even if he had attempted to bring her up with Peggy, she likely wouldn’t have remembered her. Deciding that she no longer wanted to focus on grieving anymore, Sharon turned the conversation back to the strangeness of him being here. His attention to her ankle had delayed that conversation. “So are you going to tell me why you’re here? I know it’s not to play nursemaid.”

Steve shifted on the couch, sitting up a bit straighter while still not jostling her foot. She watched, for lack of a better description, as Captain America took over. “I’m here to get you out. If you want, that is. I know you had a plan, but I have one too.”

“I’m listening.” To be honest, Sharon was somewhat surprised he even came for her at all, let alone found. Him finding her was actually a point of concern. Her trail couldn’t have been that obvious, or else someone else would have picked her up. Since Steve had busted his crew out of the Raft, the United States Government would have wanted to bring someone in to lay the blame. Sharon would have been an easy target for that. “But first, I’m more concerned about how you found me.”

“I had considerable help from Wakandan Intelligence,” Steve replied. “You should know they were impressed with how well you were covering your tracks.”

“Wakanda?” That was a surprise. Wakanda wasn’t known for much, let alone its intelligence. Furthermore, its king had been killed in the bombing. From what Sharon could recall, Prince T’Challa had appeared to side with Tony in the whole mess. 

“There’s more to Wakanda than meets the eye.”

“So you’re telling me they’re Autobots?” Sharon watched as Steve’s face adorably scrunched, a common reaction when he didn’t quite understand a reference. 

“That’s where we’d end up, by the way. Sam, Buck, and Wanda, too. They’re actually already there, by the way,” Steve explained, and then he launched into an explanation about Wakanda, itself. He told her how the country had been isolating itself, hiding its incredibly technology within. Perhaps comparing the country to Autobots hadn’t been a stretch. 

“And the government is just...fine with us being there?” Most countries didn’t want to harbor alleged terrorists, especially ones with a history of being so isolationist. 

“T’Challa is a far better friend than I deserve.” Based on Steve’s tone, it didn’t sound like the government was totally fine with their presence, even if their new king was. 

That gave Sharon pause. She knew enough about global politics to know what could happen to a leader’s allies if there was a transfer of powerful, and regimes within a monarchy could easily turn violent. 

But at the end of the day, this was her best option. Wakanda had already promised to welcome her within its borders. Not having to fend completely for herself was also an attractive option. Though Sharon operated solo just fine, having others to rely on while exiled could be helpful. Certainly less isolating. But there were complications to that, as well.

“Are you sure you want me there?”

Steve blinked, clearly surprised. He apparently hadn’t considered she would even ask that. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. I don’t leave my men behind.”

“Is that what I am? One of your men?”

“If you want to be. I want you to be.” 

They weren’t talking about friendly alliances. Leave it to a spy and a soldier to speak in metaphor. Somehow when they were talking, they had leaned closer to one another’s orbit. Sharon watched as his gaze drifted to her lips.

“You’re not...I don’t want you to think you’re beholden to anything. You aren’t. But I would really like it if you joined me. Us.” He said the ‘us’ like it was an afterthought. Then, as if he were reading her mind, “If you aren’t happy, you can leave. No hard feelings. You could go anywhere in the world. Just probably not America.”

He was giving her an out, an option to walk away if she wasn’t happy. Sharon wondered if he realized how much she appreciated him articulating that. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” A smile bloomed across his face. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” She wasn’t nervous. Aunt Peggy had taught her many things. One of those was also to place her trust in Steve Rogers. The past few years had proven her right. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as possible.”

As she gathered together her few belongings, Steve explained that Wakanda had a stealth plane waiting for them in a nearby park. Before she left, Sharon cast one last look around the safe house and sent a silent prayer of thanks to her aunt. She knew she would never stop feeling grateful.

Steve threaded their fingers as he led her to her escape and a fresher tomorrow. 

Sharon was ready.    
  
  
  



End file.
